Fond Farewell
by Maeleene
Summary: Well, it's angsty, it's sad, and now it's edited. WA3, JV, oneshot. I'd really love some reviews on how you all like the changes. Or don't. RR!


Fond Farewell

By: Maeleene

Disclaimer: I don't own Wild ARMs 3. Big concept...

New A/N: (Not that this story had an old one up here) My obsessive compulsive nature has finally gotten the best of me, and this puppy needed to be updated. Not chapter wise, but it will certainly be fixed up. End A/N will tell you all that's changed. R/R, please!

It amazed Jet that a simple shot could cause so much blood to spill.

The Wasteland floor was died a crimson red where he lay, a delightful splash of colour where there used to be none. He thought dying would be more painful. Instead, he found it a nice change. He only wished the sun would vanish and take the heat with it.

Where were his comrades now, he thought. He had been caught alone, unprepared. The beasts outnumbered him, attacked him with no mercy. But that was the way of the Wasteland, kill or be killed. He guessed it was his turn to be the killed. You could only get lucky so many times, after all. It was pitiful, really. He had been wondering if the Sample could die. Obviously, he could.

"Jet!" The voice was a breath of fresh air. And there he was, thinking he would die alone with no one to pester him as he did so.

Virginia knelt beside him, her mouth gaping as she saw all the blood. "J-Jet. . . ."

"So," he said casually, not taking his gaze off the blue, cloudless sky. "Where are the others?"

"They. . . ." She couldn't bring herself to concentrate. So much blood. "They're continuing ahead. They thought you stopped to . . ." Tears filled her eyes, and she let out as small laugh, ". . . to look at something shinny."

"Gallows?"

"Yeah. . . ." She began to tear away at her violet skirt, and he realized how much the color resembled his own eyes. Had she ever seen the resemblance? Probably.

"Don't bother," he told her. The ice in his voice stunned her.

Crying she dropped her skirt. "So even when you're dying, you're going to be cold to me?" her voice told him she was hurting.

"It's better then dying with a broken heart," he muttered without thinking.

"What. . . ?"

"Nothing. . . ." he winced as he felt the pain for the first time. Whether or not it was physical, he couldn't decide.

"No, not nothing! What did you just say?!"

He growled under his breath. He just wanted to die in peace. Couldn't he at least have _that_? "I said I'd rather not die with a broken heart!" he yelled.

"Broken . . . heart?"

"Yes, okay?! I don't want you to break my heart by telling me I'm a worthless hunk of machinery who doesn't have feelings because, you know, I do have feelings, okay?" He was getting defensive, and he didn't know why.

"I . . ." she scraped her teeth against her bottom lip. "And what are those feelings?"

Jet's head was spinning. No, the entire world was spinning. He was sure he didn't have much more time. Why was she bothering him about it now? Why not yesterday, or a week ago, or a year? His eyes wanted to droop. "I. . . . Do you really want to know?" Maybe, he wouldn't have to hear her cruel remark if he died first.

"Yes, I do. . . ." She took his hands in her own.

"I love you." He said it as though it were nothing special. His eyes slowly shut, and he felt his consciousness begin to flow.

Virginia could feel her heart flutter, and then sink with an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. Her breathing became heavy as the tears she'd tried to hold back spilled down her cheeks. His chest rose and fell, slower . . . slower . . . slower. . . . "Don't you dare die on me, Jet Enduro! Not after what you just said! You can't!" She stopped her frantic screaming long enough to take a breath. "You're supposed to take me to dinner or something! You just can't die!!"

He could hear her, but barely. Her voice slurred as he lost more and more of his life. Maybe he hadn't been rejected after all. _Damn_, he thought._ Maybe if I'd known she felt the same_ _I would've told her that sooner. Then again, I probably would have done a lot of things differently. . . ._ The blackness was tempting him to leave his body, to leave Virginia. But he didn't want to this time.

"Don't you dare die!" He hated it when she screamed at him like that. . . .

A loose connection with his body told him that she was shaking him, her breathes coming out in frantic puffs. But it all seemed so distant. This new place was calm, ethereal. . . .

As he gave into the temptation this new place offered, he let his body sputter one last thought. . . .

"Goodbye, Virginia Maxwell. Sorry for being such a jerk. . . ."

A distant scream of anguish slowly faded as he entered a new world. . . . A world of death. . . . And dreams.

New A/N: First and foremost, I spell checked the sucker. I originally wrote it on a computer out of town on WordPad. Heh. But other than that... Well, I fixed a lot of little things that made a _huge_ difference, in my opinion. A lot of word choice and sentence structure. Made the end a bit more hopeful for poor Jet. I mean, I did kill him. He kinda deserved a break. I also changed some of the dialogue to make it seem more realistic. Lots of grammatical things that no one cares about.

But what am I telling you this for? Leave a review, give me _your_ opinion. Thankies! Hope you enjoyed!


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